


The Love You Take

by ignited



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-10
Updated: 2007-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-03 18:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignited/pseuds/ignited
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original prompt: Jared/Jensen, The Beatles’ <i>Love</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Love You Take

**Author's Note:**

> For **teaspoon**. Original prompt: Jared/Jensen, The Beatles’ _Love_

In college, Sam discovered the Beatles.

And it’s not like there’s a whole long tale behind this: Jess liked them, and many other bands, but he caught some of “Dear Prudence” on the college radio once, watched the way her eyes lit up. So there may have been an afternoon or two, or three, spent in the library listening to the White Album, headphones on, tuning out everything else.

He’s heard their songs sometimes, but given the total control Dean has over music whenever he’s around, it’s not like he had time to catch up and be a real big fan of them, you know?

But they’re in _Vegas_ , of all places, lights dazzling, the way Dean smiles, jerks his head in the direction of the strip, cool red, blue, yellow lights sliding over the surface of the Impala. “Thought we’d take in a show, Sammy. We got time.”

_(And they don’t, one year’s all they have—)_

Dean knows somebody who knows somebody, and instead of ending up in some Elvis rip-off concert, they’re backstage at the LOVE performance, lots of guys and girls in spandex and tie-dye and like, cool skater stuff and catapult things. Dean points this out when he’s not snorting at the spandex.

“We didn’t have to see this,” Sam whispers, angles his head anyway, standing on tip toes to look over from his vantage point backstage. Why Dean happens to have connections to a Cirque du Soleil show is beyond him, and he’s thinking that explanation starts with something involving the words ‘sex’ and ‘that one girl,’ so yeah, Sam doesn’t want to ask.

Dean smacks his shoulder, tugging Sam down, impatient and likely annoyed with Sam towering over him even more, albeit momentarily.

Sam holds back a smirk, Dean shrugging. “Eh, I thought you’d like it. Me, I’d rather be taking a look at Elvis down the street—”

“Dean.”

“—but the backstage there isn’t like this.”

Dean pushes Sam up against a wall, behind a dark curtain, mouth on his, tongue-fucking and _whoa_ , already undoing Sam’s belt, edging his hand past the waistband, right into Sam’s boxers. His breath’s hot, this little puff of air near Sam’s ear as Dean sucks on the earlobe, kisses the spot right underneath, near the corner of Sam’s jaw.

Sam though, Sam’s still getting over being _backstage_ , the hell, this moan slipping out. Eyes snap shut, hand already clasps the side of Dean’s head, fingers dig into his scalp, hair. And Dean’s fisting Sam’s dick, the overall soundtrack blasting behind them, the last notes of “Come Together” fading into “Dear Prudence”.

There’s lights that go on, reflect backstage, red, blue shadows playing over Dean’s face just like the strip lights. They leave just as sudden when he dips his head, Sam grabbing hold of Dean. Closer, his brother kissing his neck, and Sam starts _grinning_ , “Revolution” coming on.

Echoing loud, reverberating through the theater, through his bones, all of it, a muffled gasp as a barrage of sound breaks through, piercing guitars. He rests his forehead on Dean’s shoulder, blow his load, and Dean’s got this stupid look on his face, grits his teeth, muttering.

For a night in Las Vegas, Dean _here_ , all encompassing, Sam can’t ask for more.

_end_


End file.
